


The Scar

by Manawolf



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Genre: Cute, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manawolf/pseuds/Manawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is for the Nickelodeon 2012 series.  Where did Raphael get that scar in his shell?  Not a training accident...  Mostly Mikey & Raph hurt/comfort, with Splinter to round out the narrative.  Some Leo & a little Donnie in the background.  Lots of cute.  Enjoy!</p><p>Props to Egg for the best beta reading on the planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marbles

**Author's Note:**

> Looking at Raph's scar and lining up the edges, I think it's obvious that this was the healing of a major injury. Also, the scrapes which trail along the front of his plastron don't look like the result of a regularly-edged weapon, unlike the boys' numerous other scuffs. Personally I think that looks like like an impact/drag. Here's my answer to those little details...
> 
> Love forever to Nickelodeon for bringing back the Turtles, in a way more awesome than I ever dreamed possible.

“Raph. Raph. C’mon, dude, I can’t go alone. And you promised.”

“When did I promise?”

“You KNOW. The other day you said you would go with me if I pranked Leo, and I sabotaged his pinball machine with water balloons, only it wasn’t water this time, it was -”

“ALL RIGHT, all right, keep your voice down, geez. You are _so_ annoying. Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Mikey knew, as he had always known, that the grumbling was superficial. He bounded after and around his brother as they headed out to the tunnels. Eventually Raph was goaded into a chase, which was worth the noogies.

Finally they got there. Mikey’s Spot. It had a million other names, but the important thing was that this was where he had found The Yo-Yo. It was his favorite toy and he was rarely without it, constantly spinning and learning new tricks. Even Raphael had to admit that Mikey had gotten better at the ‘chucks since then. And ever since then, Mikey insisted on going back as often as he could to check for more “fallen treasure.”

“Look, over here! MARBLES! Oh yeah, this spot is the BEST!”

Located in a marginal part of the sewer, “Mikey’s Spot” was far beneath a series of grates, allowing filtered light to illuminate a degrading and abandoned subway tunnel. Water collected in the lower areas when it rained and periodic deluges had eaten away a lot of material. While the supporting brick & mortar was stable, Splinter insisted that his young sons not stray into such borderline areas without a partner, just in case. Only Raph broke that rule, and then only a few times. (The truth was, it wasn’t as much fun going out without at least one brother in tow.)

Raphael idly kicked over a few things while Mikey rooted around at the base of a battered steel-bound girder. Were those some more marbles, half-buried in mud from the last rain? Mikey shoved aside bottles and rocks, eager to uncover more wondrous discards from the surface.

A deep, grinding noise stopped Raph cold, the ominous sound followed by the groan of wood under too much strain. Suddenly the beam looming over his brother shifted, warped edge glinting keenly in the low light as loose rubble fell from the ceiling brace. Michelangelo was looking in the wrong direction, too focused on what he was doing - he couldn’t see the danger and he wouldn’t until it was too late.

“MIKEY!”

Raphael would never remember deciding to move, or crossing the water. Between that split second of icy realization and the warm thump of slamming into Mikey’s body there was nothing more than a blink. After that came an impact on his collar, resounding deep into his shell both front and back with a sudden press of rocks and gritty mud as he was knocked to the ground.

Then the pain hit him.

It was Raphael’s scream that went to Michelangelo’s bones. This was not the enraged snarl that preceded enthusiastic roughhousing, or even noise that was leveled against their eldest sibling when he was _really_ angry. Something was Wrong, worse even than Superbowl Sunday sewer flooding.

“RAPH!” Mikey was at his brother’s side before his own echo faded, frantically scooping away rubble. It was brushed off quickly, but rocks and dirt weren’t the problem. The lining of the reinforced beam had bent outward to form a sharp edge, and where it lay across his brother’s shoulder - right where Mikey’s skull had been two seconds ago - it gouged a startlingly deep cleft into Raph’s shell. Blood was just starting to trickle down his plastron but there was more by the second.

Raphael’s green eyes were narrowed to slits, lower lip jutting out as he sucked air through his grimace of pain. The weight was crushing, wedging his shell info the rocks beneath him; if he wasn’t a turtle he would have been a gonner. There was no way he could get out himself, though he already shoved against the beam with his right arm. The other arm refused to move, and when he tried it felt like his collarbone was about to snap in half.

“Raph - Raph, oh man, say something, please - are you okay, speak to me buddy!”

“ _Agh_ \- I’m fine, just - get this thing offame, Mikey - “ he panted, “ _Damn_ -”

“Okay - okay! I can do that. Hold on, you’ll be out in a jiffy!”

Lift the beam. He could do that, right? No problem! Ducking the edge of his own shoulder and shell under narrow clearance, Mikey braced his legs and shoved for everything he was worth. Raphael struggled to add his own strength from his angle, though the effect was negligent. He did it anyway, grunting from the effort and the pain.

Mikey’s feet began to slip on damp, muddy stone. The beam shifted a fraction, enough to take a few grams of weight off the metal’s edge digging into flesh and bone. Eyes wide with desperate optimism, he scrambled against the faltering ground like a car mired in gravel. No matter how he shoved, it wouldn’t budge an inch more.

“Mikey. Hold it. Mikey, stop, STOP.” Raphael had to physically grab his brother to get him to abandon the Sisyphean task. The girder’s full weight rested back against his shell; Raph’s teeth clenched twice as hard and his eyes watered as the metal edge pressed back into gouged plastron, but he didn’t let his brother return to the rescue effort. He didn’t want to show Mikey how badly it hurt, even though he could barely think straight.

Still, he knew they couldn’t just stay here struggling with the debris. The weight was far too much for either of them and he was feeling worse every minute, his blood icy and his vision pale at the corners. Mikey had to go for help NOW.

“It’s too heavy, you can’t - can’t do it yourself.”

“I CAN. I can get you out, it just moved a little!”

“No, listen. You gotta - go get someone -”

Mikey cut his brother off. “I’m **not** leaving you!”

“You GOTTA. Look, I’m gonna be fine, I just - I just can’t move. My shell’s jammed into these rocks -”

Raphael paused to swallow, then closed his eyes. The pain was making it hard to think. He’d never thought anything could slice into his shell so deep; he could feel it digging in with every breath. The mere thought of the sharply twisted metal edge, slicing into his thick, protective carapace like a cleaver made the back of his head prickle with numbness. He lashed out, desperate to get his brother out of the danger zone before he lost consciousness.

“Just - GO, dammit, stop - stop wasting my time - or I swear when I get outta here m’gonna pound you _so_ hard -”

Raphael didn’t sound like he should when he was making threats, but it was enough for Mikey to believe it might be true. “I’ll be right back, Raph! You’ll see! Just don’t go anywhere, okay?!”

“Idiot - where’m I gonna go!” But Mikey was already gone, in a flurry of hope and fear and trust that his brother knew the best thing to do, even if he was stuck under a stupid beam. Stupid beam - stupid marbles - stupid everything!

The instant Mikey left, Raphael’s face contorted and he leaned his head back with a groan. Despite his insistent reassurances to Mikey, he wasn’t at all sure he _would_ be okay. Nothing had ever hurt like this before. He wondered if he should try to press his free hand to the bleeding but he was so light-headed, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath... then he forgot to think about anything at all.

He thought it felt like drowning.


	2. Incense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cavalry arrives; Splinter is awesome at crisis management.

“RAPH!”

Leo? That was Leo’s voice, with an edge of panic in his voice Raph had never heard before. It was awfully hard to wake up and his eyes refused to open.

“Raph - are you -“ And then Leo’s hands were stroking Raphael’s forehead, trying to rouse a response. Raph tried to grumble something surly, to deny he was anything other than pinned, but all that came out was a half-hearted grunt.

The moment he was reassured his brother was alive Leo was gone, wedging not just his shoulder but his entire shell under a gap and shoving upwards with all of his strength. The pressure on Raphael’s shoulder eased slightly; he stifled a groan.

Splinter was there, no more than a step behind Leonardo, warm hands briefly touching Raphael’s cheek as the turtle finally managed to open his eyes. “Sensei -”

“Lie still, Raphael. Michelangelo, up there -” he gestured to the high leverage point. Wordlessly, his sons scrambled with a special efficiency and speed reserved only for crisis situations, for when one of them was in trouble. “Donatello, when he is free, press that cloth to the wound. Ready, Leonardo - NOW.”

Between the leverage of Splinter’s tall human frame and the enthusiastic help of Raphael’s brothers, the beam lifted away with a nauseating sticky noise. Dark thickened blood dripped from the edge.

Raphael screamed for the second time tonight, pain resurging with blinding intensity. Gasping for breath, he instinctively reached for his injured shoulder but encountered an obstacle along the way - Donnie? He held onto Donnie instead - who was already pressing a clean cloth to stop fresh blood welling up around white bone, exposed beneath lacerated keratin -

Then Splinter again, his presence as comforting as it was noiseless. Swift paws re-checking Raphael’s neck, then his chest and shoulder that had lain under the beam, ascertaining everything vital was safe while taking charge of the cloth from Donatello.

“You will be home soon, Raphael.” Wise yellow eyes reassured him that he could rest now. Splinter was here, and so were his brothers, and it was all going to be okay. The bandage tied quickly and firmly around his shoulder; then he was being carried, head resting limp against black and brown fur and kimono cloth. It smelled like incense... and Raph was drowning again, only he wasn’t afraid this time.

 

They were home quickly; Michelangelo only remembered running after Splinter, eyes glued to the unconscious Raphael so often he nearly beaned himself on obstacles several times. Leo and Donnie took turns sprinting ahead to open the multiple plywood “doors” that lined the incoming dry tunnels to their lair.

“Leonardo,” Splinter directed as they leapt over the turnstiles, “hot water, be certain it boils, and soap. Michelangelo: towels, a pillow. Donatello: my cabinet, second shelf on the left-hand side. There is a clear bottle with a stopper. Bring the bottle, needle and thread.”

Mikey looked down at his brother as Splinter laid him on the couch. He was so quiet, arm limp over the side, breathing shallowly. The cloth was starting to grow red.

“Michelangelo. Go.” With a gasp Mikey ran.

Only then did Splinter take the cloth away, revealing a horrible gash not only in Raphael’s shell but through the flesh of his shoulder. Dried blood was caked liberally over his carapace, shoulder and arm; he was still bleeding slowly. It was a good thing that girder had not been ten pounds heavier. Splinter carefully looked over the wound, not touching it directly. The pressure from the beam staunched the initial trauma; moving him had re-opened it.

However it wasn’t the bleeding Splinter was most concerned about. The flow had abated and a line of stitches would knit the soft tissue. Raphael’s shell had still protected the deeper arteries in his neck, but unfortunately his keratin was severed all the way down to the bone - no, into it, beneath the outer layer of plastron. The wound was far from clean. With such an inviting vector, a shell infection could be... Splinter dared not think it. He would simply not allow it to happen.

“Is this the right one, Sensei?” Donnie was back first, precious vial and supplies in hand.

“Yes, thank you Donatello.”

“I got mine too!” There was Mikey, staggering under a pile of all the towels they had, plus a pillow and his teddy bear. Splinter wasted no time bundling Raph’s lower body and elevating his legs; while his sons’ temperature ran naturally cooler than his own, they were still warm-blooded, and Raphael was in shock.

Then Leo, possibly the fastest to boil water in all of New York, dropped to his knees beside them with a shallow bowl of sterilized water. He also brought a handful of the wraps they used on their fingers for grip - spare bandages. Splinter nodded in approval, then scrubbed his hands with towels and soap before subjecting the injury to further contact. He had seen too many wounds go south for lack of this procedure; he would not let the same happen to his boy.

With three boys looking on, Splinter began to clean the deep furrow. It was hard viewing for the family, but he wouldn’t send them away at a time like this. They all could use a distraction while he worked.

“What happened.” Michelangelo hadn’t precisely been coherent at the time he barreled into the Lair screaming for help.

The youngest turtle flushed, lowering his gaze. “I - he saved me. It was gonna fall on me but he pushed me away...” He looked up again, unable take his eyes away from Raphael for long. “Is he gonna be okay? Oh, it’s all my fault!”

He thought Splinter would be furious, but the white-tufted ears remained unchanged, slightly tilted back as he concentrated on the wound. “Raphael will be all right. His shell saved his life... as did you, Michelangelo.”

“But if I hadn’t made him come with me -”

“No. You were following my instructions. It is for that reason you are both still here.” Splinter paused to lay a hand on Mikey’s shell, making sure his son got the point.

“Yeah... I guess you’re right. If he hadn’t been there then I woulda...”

“Yes. And if you had not come quickly, he would be much worse. Raphael saved your life and you in turn saved his. You are brothers; it is as it should be.”

The boys watched in silence as their mentor thoroughly cleaned Raph’s wound. The gouge in his keratin was sobering; when Splinter grimly picked out a small, shallow chunk of plastron that was no longer attached, Donatello turned a little greener than was natural and quietly excused himself. Leo remained stoically kneeling at Splinter’s side, but neither he nor Mikey could stomach the view and were forced to turn their eyes away.

As Splinter cleaned the rest of the deeply jagged furrow into shell and bone, Raphael winced and murmured - they hung on the sound with bated breath - but didn’t wake. Splinter did not attempt to rouse him, and Raphael didn’t budge again.

Finally the job was done, his shoulder firmly bandaged, soft tissue stitched and lacerated chitin coated in a powerful antibiotic mix. Raph’s unconscious breath was shallow and his skin was a little too pale, but he was stable.

Leo stayed for a while, watching his brother solemnly, but felt worn out from the sudden emergency and retired soon enough. There was nothing else he could do here. He patted Mikey’s shell as he left, smiling warmly at the younger turtle whose brow was still scrunched in worry. Mikey approximated a smile in return, but it was a far cry from his usual beaming grin.

Splinter remained longer, patiently watching his injured son rest. As Raphael relaxed into a more natural sleep, the expression of pained tension gentled and his color improved. Soon after, Splinter tucked in the blankets, relocated the pillow under his son’s head and left, knowing time was the best medicine now. They would know little more for a few hours yet.

Mikey lingered. He felt responsible for Raph’s injuries and it was a horrible feeling that he never wanted to repeat, almost like that time he got some bad algae, except much worse. Even though Splinter said he would be fine, what if? They’d all had accidents, in training and in play, but no one had ever been hurt so badly. Even Donnie’s broken leg hadn’t been like this. What if Raph didn’t get better?

So he stayed, and he fretted, and he tucked his bear next to Raph’s pillow. Eventually he curled up on the couch by his brother, weariness and the adrenalin come-down finally taking their toll.

He slept.


	3. Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael wakes up! Unbearable cuteness ensues.

When Raphael woke up, he was disoriented.  Where was he - and Mikey, where was Mikey -

A second later he recognized the familiar orientation of the Lair, the colors and scents of home.  No, that’s right... he sent Mikey for help.  And then Splinter came with everyone else, they lifted the beam.  That’s how he got back. 

His shoulder felt better than he remembered, though he figured out the second he tried to look around that this pain level was closely linked to laying still.  But he didn’t have to sit up, for there was Mikey next to him, crashed out on the couch.  Typical. 

With no one to witness, Raphael’s eyes softened in affection.  Then he saw the teddy bear, and an entirely different expression came into play.

Mikey awoke to a bear in the face.  Yelling and sputtering he flailed, then landed hard on the floor with a thump.

“OW, what the - RAPH!”  Mikey scrambled off the floor, any insult forgotten, and was instantly at his brother’s side.  “You’re awake!  Are you all right?!  Oh man, I was so worried, you were trapped under that, that big _thing_ , and I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay while I was gone, I mean what if - _what if_ -”

Raph rolled his eyes.  “Mikey.  C’mere.”

Mikey’s eyes grew big.  “What is it, bro?  Do you want some tea?  What about soup?  Should I prop your legs up?  Or wait, I know -”

Then Mikey was within reach.  Raphael’s good arm shot out and he curled it in a headlock, tugging his sibling backwards against his uninjured side.  His wounded shoulder hurt abominably when he scrubbed Mikey’s pate, even yanking his brother as far to the left as he could so he only had to move it a few inches, but he did it anyway.

“I said I wuz gonna be fine, pinbrain.  Now, say it!”

“RAPH - hey, no fair!”

“Yeah, well you’ll listen to me next time.”

Raph’s grip was weak, as was his voice; Mikey could have gotten out of that headlock, easy.  But he didn’t try anywhere near hard enough, and even as he squirmed he started giggling in happiness.

“Okay okay, I promise, I will!  Ow!”

“Nuh-uh, too late for that now, you gotta say it!”

"Raphael is all wise and powerful!"

“And?”

"And - heehee - he's better than me -”

“Keep going!”

“In every possible way - nghaha - and I’m a lowly worm -”

“Yeah alright, that’ll do.”

When Raph let go, it was less because his undaunted brother had fulfilled satisfactory penance and more because his own strength was faltering.  But neither one of them cared overmuch, and when he was released Mikey retrieved his bear and scampered off to spread the good news. 

“GUYS!  Guys, Raph is awake, he’s gonna be okay!”

As Mikey ran Raphael heard a soft footstep behind him, the one that Splinter made on purpose when he wanted to let them know he was there.  He looked up into his father’s gently concerned eyes; the cushion sank as Splinter sat beside him, checking his temperature.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Ugh.  Didja get the number of that bus?”

Splinter chuckled.  Raphael was still pale and the lines of his eyes were tense with pain, but they were otherwise clear and he wasn’t running a temperature.  He even felt well enough to joke.  Yes, Raphael was going to be just fine.  His shell would be scarred, to be sure, but clearly it would take a lot more than a little tunnel mishap to put him down for long.

“You saved your brother’s life.  I am very proud of you both.”  With a gentle pat on his good shoulder Raphael’s father was gone, just before his brothers reconvened.

Their happy laughter was music to Splinter’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> The boys' ages are deliberately vague, but I was going for about 9 years old. Please let me know if you enjoyed the read via kudos or comments!


End file.
